riends, or did for him whatever else he most
needed; then the next man, and so on. Day after day cars and ambulances
were coming in, laden with untold sorrows for thousands of homes. After
weeks of this kind of experience my feelings became so wrought up that I
said to myself: The country cannot long endure this sacrifice. In mercy,
both to North and South, every man capable of bearing arms must be
hurried forward to Grant to end this, fearful slaughter at the earliest
possible moment. I went to President Lincoln at the White House, and
poured myself out to him. He was sitting by an open window; and as I
paused, a bird lit upon a branch just outside and was twittering and
singing most joyously. Mr. Lincoln, imitating the bird, said: '_Tweet,
tweet, tweet_; isn't he singing sweetly?' I felt as if my legs had been
cut from under me. I rose, took my hat, and said, 'I see the country is
safer than I thought.' As I moved toward the door, Mr. Lincoln called
out, in his hearty, familiar way, 'Here, Swett, come back and sit down.'
Then he went on: 'It is impossible for a man in my position not to have
thought of all those things. Weeks ago every man capable of bearing arms
was ordered to the front, and everything you have suggested has been
done.'"

The burdens borne by Lincoln seemed never to tell so seriously on his
strength and vitality as in this terrible battle-summer of 1864. For him
there had been no respite, no holiday. Others left the heat and dust of
Washington for rest and recuperation; but he remained at his post. The
demands upon him were incessant; one anxiety and excitement followed
another, and under the relentless strain even his sturdy strength began
to give way. "I sometimes fancy," said he, with pathetic good-humor,
"that every one of the numerous grist ground through here daily, from a
Senator seeking a war with France down to a poor woman after a place in
the Treasury Department, darted at me with thumb and finger, picked out
_their especial piece of my vitality_, and carried it off. When I get
through with such a day's work there is only one word which can express
my condition, and that is _flabbiness_." Once Mr. Brooks "found him
sitting in his chair so collapsed and weary that he did not look up or
speak when I addressed him. He put out his hand, mechanically, as if to
shake hands, when I told him I had come at his bidding. Presently he
roused a little, and remarked that he had had '_a mighty hard day_.'